by Rachel Wells
‘If you think I’m giving you milk, you’ve got another think coming,’ he snapped.
Honestly, he really was playing hard to get. I miaowed again to convey my disapproval.
‘I don’t need a pet,’ he continued, as he sipped his drink. ‘I need peace and quiet, to try to get my life here sorted out.’ I pricked my ears to show I was interested. ‘I don’t need dead mice on my doorstep, thank you very much, and I don’t need anyone disrupting my peace.’
I purred again, this time in an effort to win him round a bit.
‘It’s bad enough being in this bloody cold country again.’ He looked at me as if he was speaking to a human. If I could have, I would have told him that it wasn’t that cold, after all, it was summer. He continued. ‘I miss Singapore. I miss the heat and I miss the lifestyle. I made one mistake and that was that. Back here. No job, no girlfriend.’ He paused to take another sip of his drink. My eyes narrowed as he began to open up. ‘Oh yes, she left me soon enough when I lost my job. Three years of paying for everything for her and she couldn’t even console me for one day before she buggered off. And yes, I was lucky that I had enough money to buy this house, but let’s face it, it’s hardly bloody Chelsea, is it?’ I didn’t exactly know what ‘Chelsea’ was, but I tried to look as if I agreed with him.
I felt happy as I flicked my tail up in triumph. I was right; he was sad and lonely and not just a grumpy man, although he was undoubtedly grumpy. But I saw an opportunity; a small one, but one all the same. Jonathan needed a friend, and this cat made an excellent friend.
‘And why am I talking to a bloody cat? It’s not as if you even understand.’ How little he knew, I thought, as he drank the rest of his coffee. To show that I did indeed understand, I rubbed up against his legs, giving him the affection that I knew he craved. He looked surprised but he didn’t immediately pull away. I decided to push my luck, so I jumped up onto his lap. He looked surprised. However, just as he looked like he would soften, he bristled.
‘Right, I am going to phone your owner and tell them that you need collecting,’ he said, angrily. He gently took hold of my disc and then he did what Claire had done and dialled the number. When the number didn’t work, he tutted and looked annoyed.
‘Where the hell do you live?’ I tilted my head at him. ‘Look, you need to go home. I can’t stand around all day dealing with you. I’ve got a job to find and a cat flap to get removed.’ He looked at me with mean eyes before walking away.
I felt happier, though. Firstly, he had started talking to me, which was a very good sign, and secondly, he hadn’t thrown me out. He had walked away knowing I was still in his house. Maybe he was growing to like me. I really thought this man might have a bark worse than his bite.
I tentatively followed him upstairs, but kept out of the way as I looked around. I wanted to learn more about him, so I thought observing him would be a good idea.
He was a tall man, and not fat at all. I prided myself on my appearance and, by the looks of it, Jonathan did, too. We definitely had something in common there. He took a very long shower in a room which was attached to his bedroom, and when he came out, he opened a long built-in wardrobe and picked out a suit. When dressed, he looked smart, like one of those men in the old black and white films my Margaret used to love. She said they were ‘suave and handsome, just as men should be’, and I have to say, I think she would have approved of Jonathan’s looks.
Quietly I made my way downstairs, careful that he hadn’t seen me watching him, and I waited again, at the bottom of the stairs.
‘You still here, Alfie?’ he said, but he didn’t sound quite as hostile as before.
I miaowed in reply. He shook his head but I felt warm inside; he had used my name!
He went to the cupboard under the stairs, where there was a row of black shiny shoes, and picked out a pair. He sat on the stairs to put them on. Then he pulled a jacket off the coat rack and took his keys from the console table in the hall.
‘Right, Alfie, I guess you can show yourself out this time, and please don’t let me find you here when I get back. Or any more dead things.’ As he shut the door behind me, I stretched my legs in pleasure. I knew now that I could help Jonathan. He was sad, angry and lonely and, like Claire, he really needed me. He just might not have realised it yet.
He was softening, and so quickly. I thought about what I could do to win him over, and I realised that despite what he said, he needed another present. But not a mouse this time, something a bit prettier. A bird! That was it, I would bring him a bird. After all, nothing says ‘let’s be friends’ like a dead bird.
Later that afternoon, I deposited the bird on the doormat as I had done with the mouse. Surely now Jonathan would understand that I wanted to be his friend. I felt quite happy, so I decided to take a walk to the end of the street, basking in the sunshine. It wasn’t exactly hot, but it was a nice day and if you found the right spot, you could sunbathe. I found a lovely sunny area in front of one of the uglier modern houses that had been split into two flats. The front doors sat side by side; 22A and 22B, and they looked identical.
They both had ‘Letting Agreed’ signs standing outside, with a logo I had seen many times in this street. I enjoyed sitting in the sun for a while. There was no sign of anyone at either house yet, but I made a note to myself to come back – I knew that people would be coming soon. And after all, life was still a bit precarious. Claire loved me but wasn’t at home during the day, and she was going away at the weekend. Jonathan, well, that could still go either way, despite my determination. I needed more options.
I had discovered that I could rely on myself, but that didn’t suit a cat like me. I didn’t want to be feral, and fighting. I wanted to be on someone’s lap, or a warm blanket, being fed out of tins and given milk and affection. That was the kind of cat I was; I couldn’t change that, and I really didn’t want to.
The cold, lonely nights of the past few months were still fresh in my mind: the fear that had lived with me every minute; the hunger; the exhaustion. It wasn’t something I would ever be able to face again, and it wasn’t something I would ever forget. I needed a family, I needed love and I needed security. It was all I wanted, yearned for, and I would never ask for anything more than that.
As the sun began to disappear, I strolled back. I thought about how funny life could be. I was so lonely when Agnes died, it made me ill. I pined for her terribly and my owner took me to the dreaded vet. I had stopped eating and relieving myself, and Kathy, the vet, said that I’d given myself a bladder infection. She said it was due to grief, as she prodded and poked around. Margaret had seemed surprised; she hadn’t thought that cats felt emotions like humans. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the same, but it was pretty bad. I was mourning Agnes, and it had made me ill. And Claire was mourning Steve, the man in the suit, and Jonathan was mourning something called ‘Singapore’. I saw the grief in them as I had felt it myself. So I decided I would be there for them, as any decent cat would be.
I called for Tiger at about lunchtime, as I wanted to show her the flats at number 22. We took a leisurely stroll up there – Tiger wasn’t one for rushing around when she didn’t need to – and we stopped only to tease a big ugly dog, who was shut in his front garden. The game was to go right up to the gate, and poke a paw through, making him lunge forward. Tiger and I would then jump back, which made us very happy. The dog got so angry; he was barking wildly, and flashing his snarling teeth at us. It was most fun. The dog tried to jump up, but everyone knows that cats can jump higher than dogs. I didn’t think we would ever tire of this game but eventually, Tiger wanted to stop.
‘I think we’ve embarrassed him enough,’ she said. I flashed him my best cat grin as we stalked off. If he had been free he wouldn’t have thought twice about chasing us and frightening us half to death. That was the way of the world.
The flats at number 22 were still empty when we got there, but as we went to the small front lawn, Tiger gave me her approval. We decided to take
the back way home, so we could jump up and balance on fences, to make a change. We chased the odd bird, too, for added entertainment. It was a lovely afternoon.
I had a short cat nap and was waiting for Claire when she got home, which seemed to please her. She gave me a big, bright smile.
‘Alfie, we have a guest for dinner tonight,’ she said, sounding excited. She went off to shower. When she came back downstairs she was wearing a pair of jeans and a jumper, not pyjamas. She started cooking and although she poured a glass of wine as she did this, for once she wasn’t crying. She fed and petted me, as she pulled things out of the fridge and put them in a pan. She was happier than I had ever seen her as she hummed to herself, and I wondered if the man in the picture was coming round. I felt afraid for her as well as optimistic.
The doorbell went and she rushed to open the door. When she did, I saw a woman who looked around the same age as Claire standing there, holding out some flowers and wine.
‘Hi Tasha, come in,’ Claire smiled.
‘Hi Claire, what a gorgeous house,’ Tasha exclaimed, cheerily, as she entered.
I watched them as Tasha took her coat off and Claire asked her if she wanted a glass of wine, before they sat down at the small dining table.
‘You’re my first proper visitor,’ Claire said. I felt a little bit put out; I was her first proper visitor, surely?
‘Well, cheers to that and welcome to London! It’s good to see you out of the office.’
‘Is it always that crazy at work?’ Claire asked.
‘Yes, or even crazier!’ Tasha laughed and I immediately liked her. I settled myself under the table and brushed against her leg. She rewarded me by stroking my tail in a very lovely way – something I really enjoyed. I wanted Claire and Tasha to be friends, so I could be friends with her too.
I was right, it seemed Tasha’s visit was doing her good as Claire did eat properly and I hoped that perhaps she was turning a corner. When I began to stop pining for Agnes my appetite came back, perhaps hers was too.
‘So, tell me what brought you to London?’ Tasha asked.
‘It’s a long story,’ Claire replied, and she poured them both more wine before she started talking.
I stayed still under the table, huddled in the warmth of Tasha’s leg, and listened as Claire filled in the blanks of her recent life. As she spoke, I could hear her voice change but I knew she wasn’t crying; she went from sad, to angry, and back to sad again.
‘I married Steve, after we’d been together for three years. We lived together for a year and he proposed as soon as we moved in.’
‘When did you get married?’ Tasha asked.
‘Just over a year ago. I hadn’t had much luck in love, to be honest. My mum always said I was a late starter. I didn’t really have a relationship until I went to university! I was studious, I guess. But then I met Steve. I was living in Exeter, in Devon, working for a marketing consultancy, and I met him at a party. He was handsome and lovely. I fell for him straight away.’
‘Right,’ Tasha said, draining her glass and pouring more drinks.
‘I thought he was the perfect man; funny, kind and charming. And when he proposed I thought I’d burst with happiness. I was about to turn thirty-five, I wanted children really badly, and he agreed. We said that we’d get married and enjoy a bit of a honeymoon, then try for a baby.’ Claire wiped a tear from her eye. She was being stronger than I’d ever seen her, but her sadness was all around us.
‘Are you sure you want to tell me?’ Tasha asked, softly. Claire nodded and took a sip of her drink before continuing.
‘Sorry, but I haven’t spoken about it to many people.’
‘Please, don’t apologise.’ Tasha was definitely a woman after my own heart.
‘But then about three months after the wedding, he changed. He became moody and short-tempered and whenever I asked what was wrong, he just snapped at me. It got to the point that I was almost too scared to speak in my own home.’
I felt many emotions listening to Claire’s story; sadness, anger, and real affection for the woman who took care of me. If I ever saw this awful man, I’d scratch him across the face. And I’m not even a violent cat.
‘About eight months after the wedding he told me that he’d made a terrible mistake. He had fallen in love with someone else and he left me and moved in with her. I knew who she was, she worked in his gym. What a cliché, eh?’
‘What a jerk, more like,’ Tasha said.
‘I know, but I feel like such a fool. I really thought that he was the one, and I had no idea that he was probably cheating on me for ages. And that’s why I moved. They lived in the same area as me. Exeter is a small city and I knew that I’d probably see them all the time. I couldn’t bear that.’ I finally understood why Claire was here and why she cried so much. It just made me love her more – I wanted to take care of her as much as she took care of me.
‘Sometimes I think that you never truly know another person,’ Tasha said, sounding sad.
‘Sorry,’ Claire said, suddenly sitting up straight and pulling herself together, ‘I haven’t asked about you. You say your husband’s called Dave?’
‘Boyfriend, or “partner”, if we’re being PC. We’ve been together for ten years, neither of us wants to get married but that’s more about marriage than our relationship, I hope. We’re happy. We don’t have children, but it’s in the plans for the next year or so. Dave plays football too much and is messy and I drive him crazy in other ways, but we work.’ Tasha almost looked apologetic.
‘I’m glad, because then there’s always hope,’ Claire smiled. I realised that although I was sure she was crying because of Steve, she was also lonely in other ways and Tasha might help her with that. I knew she had me but I wasn’t so vain that I didn’t know she also needed human friends.
‘Look, I have a book group. It’s a bit lame, because we drink wine and gossip more than we talk about the books, but why don’t you join us? It’d be a really good way for you to meet people and they are a really lovely bunch, even if I do say so myself.’
‘I’d love to. I need to rebuild my life now, that’s why I came here.’
‘Let’s drink to that,’ she raised her glass. ‘New beginnings.’
I couldn’t resist it; I jumped onto the table, knowing full well that humans didn’t really like that, and I raised my paw to touch the glass, which was my way of joining in. They both looked at me and laughed.
‘That’s an incredible cat you’ve got there,’ Tasha said, giving me a very big fuss.
‘I know, he came with the house. Although, Alfie, you shouldn’t be on the table.’ But Claire wasn’t cross; she laughed. I grinned my cat grin and jumped down.
They both seemed happy, so I thought it might be a good time to check on my other friend, Jonathan, and see if he had received my latest present yet. They didn’t seem to notice me leave via the cat flap, as they were still laughing. It seemed that Tasha made Claire happy and I was very glad of it.
It was dark and the temperature had dropped as I made my way through the back gardens to number 46. The big fat Tom who had bullied me before tried to scare me, but I just yelled as loudly as I could at him and he backed off. He was too fat to chase me anyway. I went through the cat flap and into Jonathan’s immaculate kitchen. It was in darkness but I soon found him sitting on the sofa in his living room. In front of him was a computer and there was a man’s face on the screen, which seemed to be talking.
‘Thanks mate, I appreciate it,’ Jonathan said.
‘No worries.’ The man on the screen spoke English but with a funny-sounding accent. He looked about the same age as Jonathan, but not so handsome.
‘I’m just grateful that I’ve got a job, I can’t cope with having nothing to do.’
‘It’s not quite the same as SSV, but it’s a good company and it should suit you.’
‘If you’re ever in the UK, I’ll buy you dinner,’ Jonathan said.
‘Same if you come to Sydney
. Anyway, see you mate.’
Jonathan closed the lid on the computer and it was time for me to make my entrance. Standing as tall as I could, I lifted my tail magnificently in the air. I strode, with my best cat walk, one foot crossing over the other, and moved slowly, but purposefully, to where Jonathan was sitting.
He sighed deeply.
‘You again. And I’m guessing you left me the dead bird this time?’ He didn’t sound as cross as he had done; I knew he would be pleased. I tilted my head and miaowed at him. I was sure he really liked the bird.
‘Why do cats not understand that humans don’t want dead animals in their houses?’ I looked at him curiously. I understood this with some people but I knew that Jonathan was like most cats; he liked the chase and the kill, I could tell. He wouldn’t admit it but I was pretty sure he was beginning to enjoy my presents. He stood up.
‘Let’s make a deal. If I feed you, will you leave me alone?’ I tilted my head again. Once more, I knew he didn’t mean it. ‘It might work; after all, it seems that if I don’t feed you, you come back, so maybe you’re the sort of cat that prefers reverse psychology.’
I had no idea what he was talking about, but he went to the fridge, took out some prawns and dropped them in a bowl for me. He then poured me a saucer of milk.
‘I’m only doing this because I’m in a good mood. I’ve got a job, you see,’ he said, as I concentrated on the feast laid out before me; I was overjoyed. He went back to the fridge, took out a bottle, opened it and started drinking. ‘I’m so relieved, I was beginning to think that I’d never get another job.’ He shuddered and I kept eating.
‘What on earth is wrong with me?’ he asked. ‘I’m talking to a bloody cat. Surely that’s the second sign of madness.’ I fleetingly wondered what the first sign was.
When I had finished eating, I licked my paws clean, noticing that he was watching me as he nursed a beer. When I’d finished, I went to rub his legs in thanks and then, as quickly as I had arrived, I left.
